The Befouled Weakly News

5 September 2010

Oops! Late start to the morning hence a late start to this edition of the Weakly News; too much to do and so little time! We had a very pleasant evening with Mary and Paul across the road last night and staggered home well past our bedtime and we’re off for lunch with some other friends and acquaintances this afternoon. My goodness, we do enjoy a frenetic social whirl!

It’s been a good week apart from the unfortunate necessity of starting to pretend to work again. Ms Playchute, of course, was right back into it upon our return but I was able to prolong the holiday by playing with photographs and creating a little slide sequence with music which I will share in due course. But, schools did start back towards the end of last week and I have a number of sessions scheduled over the next couple of weeks. So it was time to have a look and remind myself what the heck it is I’m supposed to be doing. Increasingly, a real struggle!

The other unfortunate news to relate is that Ms Playchute has developed an addiction which may prove difficult to cure. She has become a Facebook Junkie.

After, I guess, about a year of having been “on Facebook” but not really knowing how or what to do with it, Pen received an e-mail from an acquaintance from her East African days inviting her to join a Facebook group for those who attended the Loreto convent in Eldoret, Kenya. Since joining she has been in contact with dozens of “girls” who were there at more or less the same time and they have exchanged photographs and reminiscences. It seems that every few minutes she is checking for updates and now spends “hours” hammering away at the keyboard with her long-lost friends. The following show her preparing to play hockey for the “Irish”. It seems that the Irish were short a player and so commandeered Ms Playchute to their side. Of course, since then we have discovered a long, great line of Irish ancestry in her background so she wasn’t really a ringer brought in after all.

Up the Irish
Up the Irish

In case you have any trouble recognising her, she is on the left in the first photo and on the right in the second. Click the photo for a slightly larger version if you dare.

I am about to make a start on the Stragapalooza 2010 cookbook but there are some recipes missing; if those of you responsible could forward them on I would be grateful. Some of these are very basic, of course, but they ought to be included, I think, just to be complete. So, I am missing Sandy & Pam’s meals (marinated beef flank steak, ratatouille & corn bread and whole roast chicken with bacon, vegetarian pasta/bean salad and green salad), Sarah’s Chicken Casserole and Vegetable Surprise and meat/vegetarian lasagne and Sallie’s left-over lamb meal. Have a look here to remind yourselves, if you like and, if possible, let me have your contributions as soon as possible. After all, I need something to keep me from pretending to work.

Finally, I ran across an interesting article on the BBC web site about “The Rise of the Mamils (Middle-aged Men in Lycra)” which struck a chord (although I have yet to feel any burning desire to undertake the spiritual journey to the mountains nor do I take any particular interest in the way in which my sweetheart shaves her legs). You can read it here.

Love to you all,


A couple is in bed sleeping when there's a rat-a-tat-tat on the door.

The husband rolls over and looks at the clock, and it's half past 3 in the morning.” I’m not getting out of bed at this time," he thinks, and rolls over. Then, a louder knock follows. So he drags himself out of bed, goes downstairs, opens the door, and there's a man standing there. It didn't take the homeowner long to realize the man was drunk.

"Hi there," slurs the stranger, "Can you give me a push?"

"No, get lost. It's half past three and I was in bed," says the man as he slams the door. He goes back up to bed and tell his wife what happened and she says, "That wasn't very nice of you. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the baby-sitter and you had to knock on that man's house to get us started again? What would have happened if he'd told us to get lost?"

"But the guy was drunk," says the husband.

"It doesn't matter," says the wife.” He needs our help and it would be the Christian thing to help him." So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed, and goes downstairs.

He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere,

He shouts, "Hey, do you still want a push?"

And he hears a voice cry out, "Yeah, please."

So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts, "Where are you?" The drunk replies, "Over here, on the swing."

Stumpy Grinder and his wife Martha were from Portland, Maine. Every year they went to the Portland Fair and every year Stumpy said, "Ya know, Mahtha, I'd like ta get a ride in that theah aihplane." And every year, Martha would say "I know, Stumpy, but that aihplane ride costs ten dollahs .. and ten dollahs is ten dollahs."

So one year Stumpy says, "By Jeebers, Mahtha, I'm 71 yeahs old, and if I don't go this time I may nevah go." Martha replies, "Stumpy, that there aihplane ride is ten dollahs ... and ten dollahs is ten dollahs."

So the pilot overhears then and says, "Folks, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say ONE WORD, then I won't charge you. But just ONE WORD and it's ten dollars."

They agree and up they go... the pilot does all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word is heard. He does it one more time, and there is still no word... so he lands.

He turns to Stumpy as they come to a stop and says, "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to holler out, but you didn't."

And Stumpy replies "Well, I was gonna say something when Mahtha fell out ... but ten dollahs is ten dollahs."

The boss had listened in sympathetic silence as Mario went through the reasons why he needed, and felt he deserved, a raise. Then, with a compassionate smile, the CEO patted he younger man on the shoulder.

“Yes, Mario,” he said kindly, “I know you can’t get married on the salary I’m paying you… and someday you’ll thank me for it.”

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